


Alone

by DaScribbla



Series: Red [4]
Category: The Night Manager (TV)
Genre: Conflict of Interests, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, I was mean to Jed and I am Sorry, Multi, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:52:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6494383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaScribbla/pseuds/DaScribbla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr Roper and Mr Birch depart for Istanbul; Jed has a lot to think about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> So, we're getting into the significantly angstier half of this series. This is not a happy fic.  
> Also, I'd like to give a hUGE shout-out and thank you to inanesanity/mjolnir-s-master, who is essentially beta'ing me and is my sounding board for all of this. You're awesome.

They gave Jonathan the cottage down near the shore about the same time they gave him his new identity as Andrew Birch. It was mostly for show -- if Richard was home, Jonathan rarely went to his own bed -- but it provided a decent place for Jed to go and talk if she wanted. He was always ready to listen to her sound off over… anything really. Mostly over how bored she was. She didn’t mind being a mistress, but there were only so many times you could wake up, swim, take walks, and drink champagne before you wanted to claw your own eyes out from the monotony. 

In return, he’d talk a little himself. Never quite as much, but he’d sit there in that ugly wicker chair that had conveyed with the property, sunlight streaming through the little window above, and discuss Corky, or the party Richard had held last night, or something else. Never himself though. To Jed, Jonathan was as much a mystery as Richard was. Sometimes she questioned her habit of handing herself over to men she knew so little about, then she’d push the thought to the back of her mind. If there was anything going on -- and she wasn’t stupid, _something_ was clearly not as it should be with Richard’s business-- she’d decided she didn’t want to know. She’d reap the benefits of her position, and not ask questions. 

But it was enjoyable to sit with him in his cottage, such a change from the formulaic days at Richard’s villa, and just _talk_. She’d been recounting some asinine remark at one of the last dinner parties, and Jonathan had laughed and told her she was funny. _That_ had kept her spirits glowing for the rest of the day and brought a smile to her lips at the most inopportune times. 

Richard announced he was leaving on another business trip soon. 

“Will you miss me?” His mouth was at her throat as he murmured the words. 

“Of course.” 

But it felt rote, somehow. They’d done this a hundred times already, and they’d probably do it a hundred times more. They had rehearsed their parts so well and so often that their performance now felt almost joyless. And when Richard kissed her before he boarded his helicopter, there was little thrill in it. Jonathan had stood watching from the sidelines, face a careful blank even when Richard went to him and cupped his cheek in one hand for a long moment. But he leaned into the caress, and when Richard turned and headed in the direction of the roaring helicopter, Jed didn’t miss the bereft look on his face, though it vanished seconds later. 

That evening, Corky had behaved like the disapproving chaperone in every period romance ever written, eyes narrowing practically every time she and Jonathan exchanged so much as a glance. When night at last fell, she didn’t invite Jonathan to bed; the thought, however paranoid, that Corky would somehow manage to twist it and use it against them destroyed the magic for her. 

Now she lay on her bed in her sleepwear, overhead lights still on, and tried to distract herself with a book. But Oliver Sacks was proving too heavy for her and was not enough distraction from how lonely she suddenly felt. 

_Is this what my life is going to be?_ she wondered, finally laying the book aside and staring up at the ceiling. _Lying on a bed, doing nothing? Just waiting._ Suddenly it seemed as though the walls of the bedroom were closing in on her. _Oh my god, what if this is all I end up being?_

That thought carried her out the bedroom door, out of the villa, and over the sand dunes to Jonathan’s cabin. She should have knocked, but the noise of her mind was too distracting. Pushing open the door -- there was no lock -- she suddenly felt a hand grab her around the waist and pull her sharply to the side. She stiffened as something thin and cold brushed the side of her neck. 

“Jonathan, what the _hell --”_

Jonathan immediately let go of her and took away from her neck what Jed saw with a jolt was a kitchen knife. Heart pounding in her ears, she watched him replace the knife in the kitchen drawer and slump down on the bed nearby. She stared, her reasons for coming momentarily forgotten.

“Jonathan, what was that about?”

“I’m sorry,” he said shortly. “I didn’t know it was you.” He was shaking. 

“Jonathan?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, swallowing hard. 

“I --” Suddenly her reasons seemed trivial. “What happened just now?”

“Sorry,” he said again, rubbing at his temples. “It comes with having served. Don’t ever open that door without knocking, alright?”

“Alright,” she said slowly, “but…”

…. but something in how he’d seized her was not the manner of a traumatized soldier. He’d been quick, with neither hesitation nor the intention of mercy. A point on the flesh of her neck stung where the knife had rested against it. It was chilling to think: if she hadn’t spoken, he might have killed her.

Suddenly feeling lightheaded, she sat in the wicker chair near the bed and covered her eyes for a moment. 

It hadn’t been fear that had operated through him. It had been… she didn’t know what. 

“I’m sorry,” he said for the third time. “I didn’t know it was you.” He was gazing at her in concern. “Are you alright? Why did you come?”

“I…” She sighed. “I felt alone.” Jonathan nodded.

“Know the feeling,” he said. “D’you want to talk about it?” Whatever had happened at the door was clearly a tabled topic for him; Jed decided to go along with it. 

“I just can’t shake the feeling that this is all I’ll ever be,” she said, leaning back in the chair. “I mean, I’ve gotten so lucky. I just… I’m missing something, somewhere. I feel like I’ve missed out.”

“Yeah, I know those thoughts,” said Jonathan. “All through Iraq, the same litany. Do you love him?” he asked, apropos of nothing. “I know I’ve asked you before, but -- do you?”

Jed shrugged, the only answer she had.

“Sometimes. Do you?”

Jonathan looked at the floor, a furrow in his brow. For a long time, nothing was said. The sea crashed onto shore, sounding closer than what Jed was used to. Finally, he shifted on the bed, dragging his fingers through his hair.

“What do you know of Richard’s business?”

“He -- sells agricultural equipment.”

“Do you believe that?”

Jed gazed at him, taking in his rigid posture and the way his hands curled into fists. It was so hard to connect the different versions of him -- the soldier, the babysitter when he was with Danny, the long-legged boy who begged for whatever she and Richard could give him. Now he had all the fragility of the latter, with the tension of the former. His eyes were hollow and grave. _Do you believe that_? What could she say? _I want to? Some part of me still wants to think the best of people, even after everything I’ve seen? I’d like to believe that everything is fine? It_ is _fine?_

“No,” she whispered.

 

Dawn was filtering weakly through the cabin window when she awoke, her robe draped over her as a makeshift blanket. The clattering of crockery made her turn her head drowsily to the kitchenette, where Jonathan was making breakfast. She watched him for a little while, then decided to get up and go to him. He paused in the middle of putting the pan on for eggs as she kissed the back of his neck. 

What could be said? She knew he was a plant, and he knew that she knew it. But they’d said nothing of it last night. Just a sudden realization, the final puzzle piece dropping into place, the scales falling from her eyes. 

She wrapped her arms around his chest, pressing close and enjoying his hum as he leaned back against her. The pan was set down carefully on the stove and then he turned his head awkwardly to kiss her on the lips. They looked at each other for a moment and the knowledge came down hard once more -- _I know what you are_. 

“I’m…” she began, “I’m not going to --” She stopped and started over. “I want you to be safe. Alright? No matter what.” Jonathan looked at her for another moment and then nodded, catching her meaning. She felt suddenly dizzy and wondered what she’d done. Whether she’d realized it at the time or not, she’d just abandoned all neutrality in a game that Richard didn’t even know was being played.

“Thank you.” He resumed making breakfast, whisking an egg in a small bowl. “Do you want to stay and eat?” Jed hesitated and then nodded.

“Yes. Thanks.”

“Not at all.” He added another egg to the bowl.

A long stretch of silence descended, both of them lost in thought. Sitting back on the bed, Jed watched him cook for a little while. 

_I’ve been pulled into your world. Like it or not. What have you done to me?_

_Well -- no. Richard’s the one who pulled me into this. And I just didn’t think._

“ _Do_ you love him?” she asked. The thought had been nagging at her for some time. And remembering that moment before the helicopter… and the easy kisses, the little touches that weren’t sexual, that were simply done for the sake of being close…

Jonathan poured the whisked eggs into the pan, set down the bowl, and did not turn around. There was a sizzling sound as the eggs cooked. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said at last, and something in his weary tone broke Jed’s heart.

 

It was a shorter business trip than last time, so Richard came back late that evening, but, as he told her that night, he wouldn’t be there long. 

“We’re flying out to Istanbul in a day or so,” he said, handing her a post-coital glass of wine. She cocked her head to the side.

“ _We?_ ” 

“Well, Andrew and I,” said Richard. Jed’s eyes flicked to where Jonathan was reclined against the pillows at the headboard. “You, darling, will be going to Florida for a little while. Change of pace.” 

“I see.” _Just once, I would like to be given a choice. In something. Anything._

_But... no. I was given a choice today, and I made it without thinking it through._

“You’re not angry, are you, Jeds?” He was looking at her in concern. She forced a smile to her face and shook her head.

“No. Not at all.” _Empty head, empty head. Just let him think you don’t care_.

“We’ll be having a sending-off party for everyone,” he said. “Dinner out, maybe some dancing. You’ll enjoy it.”

She nodded mutely. What else was there to do?

 

And somehow the days flew by until they were coming back from that final dinner, as Richard had promised, the night warm and scented with salt and the breath of the ocean. He was between Jonathan and her in the car. He’d pressed his leg against his, a subtle sort of comfort.

_How dare you drag me into this_ , she thought and didn’t know who it was directed at. When she grew to think about it, it didn’t seem to matter so much.

 

“I’m sorry about this evening,” Richard said, kissing them both. They were back home at last, sitting in the bedroom. “I’m _very_ sorry,” he added to Jonathan, who shook his head and smiled, if a little tightly. “He won’t be going with us, I can assure you. And, if at all possible, I’ll see to it that he never travels with you. Hm?” Jonathan dropped his gaze, and Jed saw the surprise on his face, the gratitude.

“Thank you.”

Richard looked over at her.

“You can handle our major, can’t you?” She half-smiled.

“I doubt very much that he poses a threat to me,” she said, “but I can handle him if he does.”

 

A night of making love and a few scant hours of sleep here and there. They were all clinging rather tightly to each other, she noticed, as if they all subconsciously knew that there was an ending upon them, a changing of the guard. Somehow, she knew that this was the last night they’d have like this, to touch each other for the sake of touching them. 

If she was honest with herself, she’d miss them both. Things might be slowly cracking between herself and Richard, but he was all she’d had for nearly two years. And god, it wasn’t as if he’d never done this to her before. It was just now… now it was complicated. 

 

Saying goodbye turned out to be the easiest part, probably because she’d spent the whole night agonizing over the moment. It came and went, with Richard kissing her and Jed putting her arms around Jonathan at the last second. It was quick, but it was something. 

 

“I hope the Chief’s just aware of what he’s doing,” Corky muttered on the plane. 

“What do you mean?” she asked coolly, putting her book down on her lap.

“What would you care?” he said, with just as much frigid politeness. “You’ve got it as bad as him. Although sometimes, honestly, I trust you about as much as I do our Mr. Birch. Which is to say,” he added helpfully, “not at all.”

Trying to keep her hands from shaking, she went back to her book, praying that the rest of her stay in Florida wouldn’t be like this, while at the same time knowing full-well it would be. 

 

Three interminable days of doing nothing and of Corky making asides -- _“I can see it now: blow him first, trade business secrets behind his back. Is that how_ you _do it?” --_ and then, thank _god,_ Richard finally called. She was in her hotel room, back from yet another swim, and her hair was still wet. But she dropped everything and went for her phone. Anything, _anything_ to break the monotony. Anything for a distraction.

_“Jeds, darling, how are you? You’re on speaker, by the way.”_

“Bored,” she said, lacking the energy to front. “You’re doing better, I hope?” 

_“Yes, we just got back from a meeting. Went splendidly.”_ She could hear laughter in the background, some indistinct rustling. 

“Is Andrew there?”

_“Yes. Hi, Jed.”_ She sank down on the bed, still in her swimsuit. Until now, she hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted to hear his voice again. 

“Hi.” After a beat or two, she felt the need to pick up the conversation. “So… the meeting went well?” 

“ _Yes. Everything’s worked out brilliantly._ ”

“What time is it over there?”

“ _Umm…”_ She could almost see Richard squinting at a clock somewhere in some sumptuous hotel room. _“Late, that’s all I know.”_ He groaned softly, and then there was some distortion that sounded a little bit like someone settling onto a bed. She half-smiled.

“Everything alright?”

“ _Hm? Oh, yes, just --_ ” He stopped short and then continued, _“-- Andrew’s being Andrew._ ” There was a sound of mock outrage and then some laughter.

“Andrew, _what_ are you doing?” She wanted to hear him speak again, that was most of it. But it was Richard who spoke, and spoke in an undertone that was clearly meant more for Jonathan’s ears than her own.

_“Do you intend to tease me all night?”_

She heard Jonathan’s response as well, just as low and private. 

_“No. I_ fully _expect you to lose your patience.”_

Some quiet laughter, more distortion, and some wet sounds that sounded a little like kissing. Again, Jed half-smiled, but it was tainted by the constant knowledge that they were so far away from her. Why did they have to send her away? Stupid question. She knew why. But knowing that it was stupid didn’t make it hurt any less. 

_“Hm. Andrew knows me a little too well, I don’t think my patience is going to last. D’you want to listen in, Jeds?”_

She lay back on the bed, ignoring the water that was seeping into the coverlet -- she could deal with that later -- and held the phone to her ear. Richard had given her the permission she’d been unconsciously waiting for.

“Yes, please.”

They were in a playful mood this time, sounding perhaps a little drunk as they kissed, laughing, a constant rustling telling Jed that clothes were coming off quite quickly. 

_“May I?_ ”

“ _Mm.”_

Something rattled metallically, and a moment later, Jonathan exhaled loud enough that the phone picked it up. 

“ _How does that feel?”_ Richard was asking. “ _Too tight?”_

_“A little. I like it, though.”_

“ _Wish you could see what I’m seeing, Jeds.”_ Jed, her hand straying between her legs, hummed in agreement.

“So do I.”

“ _Pretty as a picture. Aren’t you?”_ That last part was quieter, meant for Jonathan alone, and suddenly Jed felt like a trespasser on something that was uniquely theirs. She took away her hand and shivered a little, noticing suddenly how chilly the damp swimsuit made her feel. 

“ _Fuck me.”_ Jonathan’s voice was ragged, soft. “ _Please.”_

_“Shhh…”_ Some breathy laughter and then a hum of contentment from Jonathan. Jed climbed beneath the duvet draped over her bed -- a single; that felt different. Laying her head on the pillow, she kept listening but suddenly didn’t feel aroused by it anymore. 

Outside her door, she heard footsteps in that same quick cadence that Corky always used to keep up with people, and immediately she tensed. Tears pricked at her eyes. He would keep making insinuations, would keep reminding her that he trusted neither her nor _Andrew_ , would make sure she felt guilty for missing him. She’d lost her temper earlier that morning after a particularly barbed attack. 

_“Is this you being angry that you didn’t get an invite, Corky? I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid we have a height minimum.”_

It had been a petty dig, but it had felt wonderful at the time. But almost immediately afterward she’d started to fear the consequences. The _you bitch_ he’d hurled after her was only the beginning, she was quite sure. 

_Why did you leave me alone with him?_ she wanted to ask. But Richard and Jonathan were moaning out loud now, with tinny, rhythmic sounds of a bed creaking in the background. There was no way she could say it. For now, there was only each other in their world. Listening to him cry out -- _Richard, Richard, Ri… ah…  --_ Jed suddenly felt devastatingly, absurdly alone. Covering her mouth so they wouldn’t hear her, she turned away and buried her face in the pillowcase, smothering her tears there, her shoulders shaking.

_“You’re lovely… you’ve done so well tonight… God, where did you come from.”_ Richard, talking during sex as usual. The thought hurt. She knew what he did and she knew with a sick, guilty feeling in her gut that she was profiting from it, but some part of her still wanted to see him, love him, be his. 

But she’d made her choice. God help her, she’d made it. And there could be no going back, not with these feelings she had for Jonathan...

…. Richard growled, Jonathan cried out, and then it seemed to be over at last, with both of them breathing hard.

_“Still there, Jeds?”_

“Yes,” she said at last, quietly. “I’m still here.”

_“It’s good to hear your voice.”_ He sounded tired. He hummed, the way he usually did when Jonathan kissed him. Another jangling sound.

_“Ugh.”_ That was Jonathan. “ _I’m going to be feeling that in my shoulders for the next week._ ” He sounded so close, as if he were mere inches away, lying beside her. She sniffed, wiping at her eyes, and Jonathan’s voice came again, this time concerned. _“You alright, Jed?_ ”

“Fine,” she whispered. Again, more strongly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Silence, the breath of the two men gradually normalizing. Then Richard spoke.

_“It’s nearly midnight where we are, Jeds, so I’m afraid we’ll have to let you go. And Andrew has to get to his room before he drops off -- yes, I see you.”_ Laughter, creaking of bedsprings, and some rustling that was probably Jonathan getting dressed. _“I miss you_ ,” Richard continued. “ _I’ll try and call you tomorrow. How does that sound?”_

“That’s fine. Looking forward to it.”

_“Good night.”_ Quieter, to Jonathan. “ _You’re leaving then?”_

_“Yeah. Goodnight. Goodnight, Jed.”_

“‘Night,” she whispered and did not wait for Richard to hang up first. 

Outside her window, far below, she could hear a child shrieking in delight, a loud splash. A sob broke through her throat; on impulse, she picked up her phone and searched in her photos for the picture she’d taken of Richard and Jonathan’s hotel information. Yes, room phone numbers, she thought she’d spotted it earlier… seconds later, she was dialing.

“ _‘lo?_ ” He sounded tired, distracted.

“Jonathan,” she whispered. Something clattered on the other end, and bed springs creaked yet again.

_“Jed?”_ Jonathan paused. _“What’s going on?”_

“Nothing.” She sniffed. Another sob broke through. “I just needed to hear your voice.”

A long, terrible silence. She could hear him breathing, a steady, in-out sound so unlike her own. 

_“We --”_ He paused again. _“We have to get off the line.”_

And he hung up.

 

“What’s the matter, Jed?” Corky asked, noticing her red eyes at dinner a couple hours later. He leaned over in false concern. “Feeling lonely? Can’t imagine when you last slept alone. Always has to be _some_ body, hm?” He laughed and Jed could smell the alcohol on his breath, a now-constant stench. “The feminists would have a field day with you, darling.”

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her knife and fork and pretended, as she so often did, that she neither heard nor cared what had been said.

 

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr at andtheansweris42 if you'd like to drop by.


End file.
